


The Weaver

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: X-Men Legacy
Genre: Backstory, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mental Instability, Multiple Personalities, Mutants, Pre-Canon, Telepathy, Unreliable Narrator, non-canon backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: It was gradual - bits and pieces of noise, flashes of light, jumbled emotions and wants and slips of thought - but eventually the being that would become known as the weaver came into awareness.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Weaver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UniqueChimera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniqueChimera/gifts).



It was gradual - bits and pieces of noise, flashes of light, jumbled emotions and wants and slips of thought - but eventually the being that would become known as the weaver came into awareness. There was a face - her face - and his deceptively strong arms, and then a presence washed through the world. Powerful, intense, _searching_.

The being fled and hid from the overwhelming presence.

Eventually it peeked out from beneath its metaphorical covers, and found the presence gone. As the being explored, it saw other, lesser beings here and there. It was cautious, and some of these were loud or flashy or scary or overwhelming in their own right, and the being retreated over and over.

It began to have the sense that it should… _do something_ about the other beings. It had an impression of bonds, tying the beings together, but it wasn't quite right. The being knew this was its job, maybe even its purpose? To weave the threads that would bind the others? And yet, the weaver - the word fit best - was scared.

Bonds implied that the others would be unwilling, but it didn't know if that would be the case. Perhaps it would be less like binding and more like merging? The weaver wasn't sure, and it debated changing its name, but it didn't have the vocabulary to find a better-fitting word. Spiders wove webs to trap but also to provide themselves a home. Weaver birds also used their skills to make shelter, and… humans? - the word fit - wove disparate pieces into one. The weaver wasn't sure which result it would use its talent for, or which result it even wanted - did it _want_ things? It wasn't sure - but the word, the idea, fit better than any other it had encountered.

The weaver retreated to its safe corner and began to plan just how it could ensnare - the word didn't quite fit, but it didn't have a better one - the first of the other beings. Tyrannix, it dubbed the first being, after a word it heard and liked from outside. Teyrex just didn't have quite the right sound, but the weaver rolled it around on its tongue for a bit - Teyrax? Tyrix? Tyrisix? - and finally decided on Tyrannix.

Tyrannix would be the first other being the weaver would try to, well, _weave_ together, as it had decided to call itself and its purpose. Truth be told, the weaver had no idea if Tyrannix thought, like the weaver did; if it had a purpose, like the weaver had; if it even wanted to be woven together, like the weaver wanted. That gave it pause. Did the weaver have a right to attempt this? It had a purpose - the weaving - but what of the others? Should it attempt to speak with them first? Language was tricky - always fading in and out - but it could try.

How best to communicate, though? The other beings all traveled differently. Some barely moved, while others raced around at speeds the weaver could barely follow. Tyrannix was of the slower variety, but it could still run away if the weaver just attempted to speak to it. Or it might even attack!

None of the other beings had attacked the weaver yet, or each other, for that matter, but the fear of attack was intrinsic, brought forth in the wake of the overwhelming presence. That hadn't been an attack - yet - but the predatory threat of one had been understood. The presence could return, and return _angry_.

The weaver gathered its courage and laid out its web, where it hoped Tyrannix would stumble upon it. And to the weaver's great shock - luck, surprise, pleasure, anxiety, fear? - the plan worked. Tyrannix was stuck - it could easily struggle free, but it didn't have a reason to yet - in the web. The weaver crept up on it, crooning a comforting song as best it could. The song was familiar, the voice from outside; the weaver liked it. Tyrannix was still, listening to the song, accepting the work of the weaver. They had reached the scariest part, however, the part where the weaver actually contacted - connected with - Tyrannix.

Their limbs - amorphous and not yet fully actualized - reached out, touched, _connected_.

The weaver felt it, there was a world beyond its own. A world where the overwhelming presence, the singing voice, the face, the arms - a world where they came from. The weaver saw and understood for the first time. Man, woman, baby, father, mother, child. Places and words and concepts and names flooded into the weaver, pumping it full of information it was not yet ready to have.

In desperation it flung itself away, and found Tyrannix doing the same. Separated, each slowly recovered, joined in their fear and confusion in a way they hadn't been before. No longer physically connected, but mentally touched - scarred? - scared, at least. Together in their fright.

Before the weaver could fully recover, the overwhelming presence was back. This time the weaver was able to see it with a clarity it had never had before. Memories and insights from the last few agonizing moments with Tyrannix settled into patterns that the weaver had never before known but now understood instinctually must be correct.

Strong arms. A face. The presence. A title: _father_.

The understanding - the revelation! - for the weaver was overshadowed by the overwhelming presence that raced through the world. Father, it corrected itself. Mind, not world. Minds? For all the context it had gained, there was still so much it lacked.

 _David!_ the presence projected, it's might overpowering the weaver and the others, booming through the world - mind - like thunder, its echos richochetting into even the smallest corners where the two huddled.

 _David, I felt you. I know you're there,_ the presence - Father - continued. There were emotions in this message, emotions that the weaver was too young, too inexperienced, too terrified to comprehend. _I felt your powers, my boy. I'm so proud of you!_

The weaver didn't understand - most of the words were ones it had learned, but the meanings eluded it at the moment, hazy amongst the towering presence and the primal fear. It buried its head and hoped to escape notice.

The pres- Father remained, the words repeating, with slight variations, but finally it faded away. It withdrew slowly, retreating from spaces and corners and what might one day be fashioned into halls and corridors. It ebbed like the tide, until it was completely gone. The weaver _knew_ it was gone, but at the same time, it wasn't. Some trace, some residue, some… surveillance? was still there, waiting for the weaver to emerge again.

The weaver vowed never to draw the attention of the- Father again. It vowed never to connect with the other beings again unless it was absolutely sure it was safe to do so. It had no idea if the connection with Tyrannix had been the problem, or if they could do it again without Father knowing and coming back. Or, indeed, if it had been Tyrannix, if the weaver could connect with one of the others without the same result.

It didn't know, and it was scared.

The weaver retreated.


End file.
